From Nightmares to Dreams
by Sirius7
Summary: How did Caitlin deal with the events of Horn of Plenty? Or rather, what I wish would have happened after that episode.
1. Chapter 1

_From Nightmares to Dreams_

_An Airwolf fanfic_

By: Sirius

Rating: T

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to Belisarius Productions, not me. If they were mine, Cait and Hawke would have gotten together a long time ago, and Season Four would have been _vastly_ different.

A/N: This is my first _Airwolf_ fanfic, though I have written for other fandoms. The muses wouldn't shut up.

Summary: How did Caitlin deal with the events of _Horn of Plenty_? Or rather, what I _wish_ would have happened after that episode.

_Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf_

_Chapter 1_

Hawke headed up to Cait's little house, oddly grateful that she'd given keys to himself and Dom a while back… 'just in case.' The doctors at the FIRM hospital had wanted to keep him overnight, but he'd never been one to listen to medical advice. Cait, knowing that, had whispered an offer and a warning to him. She told him that she knew him too well to think he'd actually stay put, but if he had to leave, he'd better call her or take a taxi to her place, because if she found out he'd even _thought _of taking a chopper up to the cabin, she'd come up after him and tie him to his own bed to get him to stay still. He'd laughed at the time, but knew she was perfectly serious… and she could do it, too. Cait was better at hand-to-hand than he was.

All things considered, taking a taxi to her place to sack out on her couch had seemed the option least-likely to lead to more damage, but now, walking to her door, Hawke was glad for the key. His gut was doing a number tonight, and he had a feeling that if he didn't have it, he'd be needing to break the door down.

His sharp ears picked up the sounds of a very unhappy Caitlin, but couldn't hear anyone else in the house. A nightmare? Silently, he unlocked her front door and slid through it, just as quietly closing it behind him. Cait's words became clear to him – pleading mixed with tears – and he remembered where he'd heard those words before, deep in Horn's stronghold, when he'd been shaking off the last of the brainwashing. Cait had reassured him that he hadn't shot Dom, but he'd not noticed the tears on her face then. He didn't even remember that they'd been falling until now.

_Aw, Cait._

"Hawke! No!" Cait's scream spurred him to quicker action, and he ran to her bedroom, unsurprised to find her in the middle of a nightmare. Hawke moved to her side, listening to every painful word, and coming to the heart-wrenching realization that for a moment… Cait had thought he was dead. More, she thought she'd killed him. And in the nightmare, he wasn't waking up.

Hawke sat on the edge of her bed and set a gentle hand on Cait's cheek, startled when she turned her head – still asleep – to lay a kiss in the middle of his palm. The tortured whispers of "love you" and "gone" that were murmured against his palm hit Hawke like a kick to the gut, and he felt her pain like a physical thing.

He wiped the tears from her face with work-roughened fingers, and spoke her name to try and wake her from the nightmare. "Caitlin. Caitlin, wake up for me. It's alright. I'm here."

Her blue-green eyes snapped open, still awash in tears, and she latched onto him as though she was afraid he'd disappear right in front of her. Given what he'd just woken her from, that didn't surprise him. He couldn't say the same for the kiss she laid on him a moment after that.

Cait's kiss – so different from the first they'd shared, in front of a camera, for a stunt – was passionate and loving, sweet and salty like her tears, and Hawke was helpless in the face of her feelings for him. He kissed her back, wrapped her in his arms and held her tight, and when the kiss ended, he continued to hold her. He'd spent so many years pushing away anyone he cared for, trapped in a prison of his own making, the belief that everyone he loved, died. But Cait, Cait had been in danger so many times… and survived. Cait was there every day, and hadn't been stolen from him, yet. But in her nightmares, _he_ was the one that died, and she had – for all intents and purposes – _seen _him die.

He loved her, and if he _had_ died that day, she never would have known, because he hadn't half her courage. He knew why she hadn't said anything to him; he would've run to his cabin and not come back down until she'd left Santini Air… until he'd succeeded in pushing her out of his life.

"You woulda tried." It wasn't until Hawke heard Cait's whispered comment that he realized he'd voiced his thoughts. He looked down and met her eyes with his.

"You woulda tried," she repeated, her honeyed Texas drawl made thicker by exhaustion and tears. "But if you'd tried that, I woulda just come up to that cabin of yours and dragged you out – or locked myself in. One of the two. I should have done that anyway, because if you'd died there, on that damn floor, without ever knowin' how I felt, nothin' woulda been left but regrets. I'm not willing to live with regrets anymore, Hawke. And I'm not keen on waitin' anymore, either. I love you. You know I love you. You just told me you felt the same way, even if you didn't intend to. Yeah, life is unpredictable. Yeah, I could die on a mission; as it turns out, so could you. Yeah, either one of us could meet our end in the joy that is Los Angeles traffic… but what excuse could we have for wasting every moment from this one to that, whenever that last moment might be? Why waste it, Hawke?"

Hawke realized that he had no intention of doing any such thing, and told her as much. Kicking off his shoes, he lay on the bed, tucking Caitlin to his side, her titian hair spreading over his shirt like flickers from a campfire. It took him only a moment to notice that she'd settled so her ear was right over his heart. Hawke dropped a kiss on her head, and held her through the darkness. Morning would be soon enough to talk over any details… but he wouldn't push her away… not Cait.

_Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~_


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Alright, I yield, I yield. The story will be continued, though I freely admit I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with it, and I certainly don't know how to go about finding John Bradford Horn or his _delightful _daughter, yet. Hopefully, something will come to me. And, yes, there will still be many, many issues that Hawke and Cait have to work through; there's a lot of baggage to sort.

See Chapter 1 for Disclaimer and Rating information.

_Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf_

_Chapter 2_

Dom paced back and forth from the office to the Jet Ranger, admittedly not too steady on his feet, but he wouldn't let the doctors keep him any longer. He'd only been tranquilized, by all that's holy, not actually shot, and there's only so long anything could keep him down. Besides, the hospital had somehow lost his boy. That in itself didn't surprise Dom; he knew that String hated hospitals and wouldn't stay in them any longer than he was forced to. What did surprise the older pilot was that Hawke wasn't at Dom's place, or the hangar… and none of the choppers were missing, so he couldn't be up at the Lake unless he'd taken the Lady. Dom knew better than to think that String would take Airwolf out of her lair if he didn't have to.

He knew Cait would be having just as difficult a time dealing with things as he was, so Dom hadn't called yet to let her know that String was missing… despite risking her anger. That girl was the closest person in this world he had to a daughter now, and he didn't want to worry her if he didn't have to, even if she might take it the wrong way.

Finally, Dom forced himself to calm down and start up a pot of coffee to clear out the last of the cobwebs. He'd just sat down with a fresh cup when he heard a car pull up outside the hangar doors. _Mamma Mia, why now? The last thing I want to deal with is new business this early in the morning. Wait,_ his thoughts were interrupted as the door opened to allow the entrance of a tall man dressed entirely in white – a black eye-patch the only break in the field of snow that comprised his wardrobe. _I take that back. Business _isn't _the last thing I want to deal with this morning._

"Michael. I wasn't aware that we were supposed to go anywhere or rescue anyone today…"

"Good morning, Dominic. And how is everyone today?"

"Fine, so far's I know. You know something I don't?"

The white-clad spy looked at the pilot with what could only be a smirk. "Several things, Dominic, but since a little bird informed me that you were short two pilots this morning, I thought I'd drop by and make sure everything was running smoothly. I was in the area."

"You're never just in the area, Michael, but I'll let it go this time." The older pilot let slip a smile of his own. "You didn't have to help us. You could have just told the Committee that String had become a security risk and had Zebra Squad deal with him."

Michael Archangel glanced for a moment toward his feet, one hand closing in a tighter grip on the head of his cane, the other reaching up to rub absently at his mustache. "No," he said, with a telling sigh. "I couldn't. Friends are a rarity in my business, Dominic; you know that. It wouldn't sit right to kill off one of the few I have."

Dom didn't always trust Michael – didn't _usually_ trust Michael – that was no secret, but he was pretty good about knowing when people were lying to him… and Archangel was telling a truth that would leave him immensely vulnerable if the Committee ever found out. A low whistle escaped him, and the spy nodded in agreement.

"As to the reason I actually stopped by this morning," Michael continued, seeming more than a little amused. "I thought you might be worried about Hawke, and wanted to inform you that he's okay… to the best of my knowledge."

"'To the best of my knowledge,' he says," Dom muttered to the room. "And what's that supposed to mean, hmm?"

"It means that Hawke took Caitlin's warning to heart last night, and unless she killed him, should be safely nested at her place."

"What warning?" Dom knew the look he sent Archangel's way had to be overflowing with curiosity. The laughter tugging at Michael's lips told him the story was a good one.

"Cait was apparently too busy threatening Hawke last night to notice when Laura came into the room. Laura couldn't hear what Cait was whispering, but she stomped out of the room growling about it when he started to laugh, and Laura caught most of it then. It seems that if Stringfellow had even thought of taking a helo up to his cabin, Cait had plans to follow him and tie him to his bed… just to get him to stay in one place long enough to finish healing. She seems to have offered the use of her couch, if he absolutely couldn't bear staying in the hospital overnight. Since he wasn't there this morning, and there aren't any Santini Air choppers missing, I'm presuming he had the good sense to take her up on the offer." There was more than a hint of the devil in Archangel's eyes, and Dom figured he intended to tease String about this for a long time to come. That suited the older man just fine, since he planned to do the same thing.

_Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf_

Hawke woke slowly, becoming aware of each sense one-by-one. First was hearing, and he noted the sounds of more than just himself in the room. Second was touch; the fingers of his left hand curled on bed sheets that were not his. The fingers on his right were buried in silken hair… _Cait._

His lips curled up in an unrestrained smile, and he drew in a deep breath. Opening his eyes, he looked for several minutes at the woman curled next to him. Her head still rested on his chest… and the light of day revealed a number of things he hadn't noticed last night.

The signs of dried tears on her face were not unexpected; he knew those would be evident this morning. The surprise was the nasty bruise on her right temple; it only took a glimpse for Hawke to remember everything. She'd come in to his room in the Horn complex, tried to get him to remember who she was. He'd called her a spy and slammed her into a wall. She hadn't been expecting that, and it had allowed him to get the jump on her, but he remembered also that she'd recovered quickly. The boot-shaped bruise developing on his chest was proof enough of that. Hawke closed his eyes for a moment and thanked a God he wasn't sure he believed in that Cait was better at hand-to-hand than he, freely admitting – and for once, thankful for it – that his fighting style was closer to 'bar brawl' than anything else. Cait's training had a more formal slant to it, and that had saved her… and allowed her to save him and Dom.

Strange… he'd been more or less manhandled into a room at the FIRM hospital, and he knew that Dom had been checked out as well, but he couldn't remember if anyone had made sure Cait was okay. Of course, if she hadn't mentioned being slammed into a wall, the doctors might not have realized there was anything to check. Hawke figured he could ask her about that when he brought her breakfast.

He wasn't sure how to handle the decision they'd reached last night… but cooking breakfast for her was nothing unusual, and she'd returned the favor more than a few times. The general rule when they were all at the cabin was that the first person up started breakfast – or at least, the coffee – regardless of whether that person was himself, Dom or Cait.

He slid out of her hold carefully, slipping a pillow under her head and bringing the blankets back up to cover her shoulders. Hawke watched as Cait moved over to the spot he'd occupied and curled tighter into herself, her face tightening with what String thought was pain. _How hard _did _I put her into that wall?_ Hawke dropped a light kiss on that bruise, making a mental note to call Michael later; he'd know whether or not the doctors had seen Cait, and it might be easier than getting an answer from the younger pilot. In the meantime, she'd only be better for having had breakfast.


	3. Chapter 3

See Prologue for Disclaimer, Rating, and Author's Notes

_Chapter 3_

_Ow, ow, ow, ow, that hurts. How in blazes did I manage to get a hangover when I didn't drink anything? That's just not right. Ow_. Cringing against the pain in her head, Cait decided that keeping her eyes shut would be the best idea for the moment. She couldn't pick up the sound that had aided her slip into a deep sleep the night before; there was no heartbeat, no Hawke, but the blankets still smelled like him.

_If he left without tellin' me goodbye, I may have to shoot him._ Over the thoughts running through her own aching head, she heard the familiar sounds of cooking, and was reassured that Hawke hadn't run… he'd just gotten hungry. _Okay, I can deal with that. I should go make sure that he knows where to find everything in my kitchen… but I don't really want to move._

Footsteps and the smell of food coaxed Cait into opening her eyes, a decision she immediately regretted as two Hawkes swam in her vision and the room moved on its own. She slammed her eyes shut again and took several controlled breaths, knowing what this was now. _Concussion, lovely. Not like it's the first one, but they're still annoying._

"Cait?" Hawke's voice was blessedly quiet and in some small way, soothed the pounding in her skull.

"I'm awake. Not too sure I want to be, yet, but I am."

"Feel up to some breakfast?"

"Toast and tea? Something light?"

"Figured as much. That and some oatmeal is all that's on the menu for now." Hawke's hands, callused and confident, helped Cait sit up against her headboard and steadied her when the room started to spin again. Those same hands moved along her face, turning it slowly from one side to the other, fingers ghosting over her temple and gentling even more when she flinched. "Sorry."

Cait could hear the worry in his voice, and wished she could think of something to reassure him that she'd be okay. Words failing her, she opted for laying a hand over his, and hoping that would be enough of a message… for now. Slowly, she opened her eyes again, and kept her head steady as multiple Hawkes joined together to form one solid image.

"That's better. There's only one of you, now."

Now that she could see him clearly, the guilt on his face was easy to notice. _Oh, no, we're taking care of this right now. I'm not going to let you dwell on something that wasn't your fault._ "Hawke, stop. You can't expect me to believe you were in anything close to your right mind with all the drugs and everything else Horn and his 'doctors' pumped into your system. What happened there wasn't your fault, and if you think I'll let you draw away because of that, you've got another think coming. You know me, Hawke… well enough to know that if I _say_ I'll follow you up to that cabin and even to the ends of the earth to drag your rear end back here to the people that care about you, I _will_."

Her impassioned speech set off a deeper throbbing on one side of her head, but seeing the guilt fading from his eyes to be replaced with amusement made it worthwhile. _Damn it all, I just got him to admit how he felt last night, and I'm sure as hell not lettin' him back away now… not after gettin' him away from Horn, not after watchin' him _die_. He has to know that someone's willin' to fight for him. Everyone else in his life has been too easy for him to chase away… 'cept Dom, of course, but that's not the same thing at all._

"Yeah, I know." That gruff voice – and the mix of amusement and love in it – eased the tension from her shoulders, and Cait let herself lean into the hand that still rested on her face. "Head any better?"

"Not really," she admitted, seeing the grim look on his face and know that she'd probably be wearing something pretty close to it herself if the situation were reversed.

"Did anybody look you over last night, or did you just shove all the doctors towards me and Dom?"

"You and Dom, of course," she said, with as much of a grin as she could manage. "Nothin' hurt then, Hawke. I didn't think I had anything that needed checking."

"Adrenaline hadn't worn off yet. You know better, Cait. Does this mean I have to start giving you the same lectures you give me whenever I get hurt?" The words may have seemed harsh, but the tone behind them wasn't. She'd scared him, and she knew it… now, at least. She tried to figure out what was going through his head, but her own kept pounding. She had a feeling she'd be seeing a doctor at some point today, whether she wanted to or not. Truth be told, though, she wasn't usually as stubborn about such things as Hawke. She wouldn't fight him if he wanted her to go; she just didn't want to move yet.

"Nah," she said softly, "you don't need to worry about doing that. I've got them all memorized, as many times as I've had to use them on you… and even Dom, a time or two. I'll make you a deal. I'll get checked out today, no arguments on my part. Any time we end up gettin' in a spot of trouble on a mission or otherwise, I'll see the doc then, too… so long as you and Dom get seen without raisin' too much of a fuss."

He agreed with no more than a nod, and Cait made a mental note to log the deal in the Lady's computer, so she could bring it up for him when he tried to talk his way out of it… and he _would_ try, but she'd worry about that later. For now, it was about all she could manage just to sit up and work her way through a slice of toast.

Two slices of toast, half a bowl of oatmeal, and a change of clothes later, Cait was feeling almost human again. For all that she wanted nothing more than to drift back off to sleep, she knew it would be better to get the visit with the doctor over and done with. She couldn't deny being happy about Hawke's arm around her waist, but she wasn't too fond of the part where she actually _needed_ the help to stay on her feet.

_I hate concussions._

_Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf_

Hawke took a moment, while he was taking dishes back to the kitchen, and Cait was changing clothes – carefully – to make a quick phone call. Much as he wanted to talk to Dom, he wasn't sure if the older pilot had been released from the hospital, yet. Michael would know, so he'd be Hawke's first phone call.

It took only a few seconds for Michael's aide to put the call through to… wherever he was now. The background noise didn't sound like Knightsbridge, so Hawke wasn't quite sure what the spy was doing at the moment.

"_And how are you this morning, Stringfellow? Did you sleep well?"_ If ever anyone could _hear_ a smirk, it would be now, in Michael's voice. Hawke knew without a doubt that Michael somehow knew where he'd spent the night, and was greatly amused by it.

"I slept just fine, Michael. Wish I could say the same for Cait, but I'm thinking she's working on a nasty concussion."

"_What!"_

"Seems she forgot to mention what happened in Horn's little hellhole _before_ she got the antidote into me, and I didn't remember it until I saw the bruise on her face this morning. I slammed her into a wall, Michael, and I'm betting on the concussion because she was seeing more than one of me earlier. I know she didn't get checked out last night, and plan to fix that this morning… and drop in on Dom if he's still there."

"_He's not. Dominic's already been discharged and was at the hangar this morning. I'm close enough to pick him up. We can meet the two of you back at the Hospital, and get a full debriefing this time. You're rubbing off on Cait if she's taken up your habit of hiding injuries. We could have done without her adopting that one."_

"Yeah, we could, but it wasn't deliberate on her part. The adrenaline hadn't worn off yet, so she wasn't hurting… didn't think anything was wrong and was worried enough about Dom and me that she just didn't mention it."

A resigned sigh escaped Archangel, and Hawke couldn't hold back a small smile. He would have given just about anything for the circumstances to be different, and for Cait not to be hurting… but he _did_ enjoy aggravating the spy. "We'll see you there shortly, Michael. I'll make sure Cait stays on her feet. See you soon."

A muted click was the other man's only response. Hawke put the receiver down on his end, and went to check on Caitlin. She'd had long enough to change clothes in the privacy of her own bedroom, and he hadn't heard any ominous thumps that would tell him she'd hit the floor, but he still worried.

Head injuries were nasty things… he should know.

_Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf_

I'm inserting a shameless plug here, for anyone who's interested. I also have two other Airwolf fics up on this site, in the crossover section. One, "Recognition," is a crossover with Kung Fu: The Legend Continues. The other, "Wolfpup," is a crossover with Buffy: the Vampire Slayer. I'm not demanding that anyone read them... just letting readers know that the stories exist, if anyone's interested.


	4. Chapter 4

See Part 1 for Disclaimer, and Author's Notes.

Rating Information: Yes, the rating has gone up to a T, as a result of the language used by Hawke in the last chapter.

Author's Note: This chapter is a little shorter than I'd intended, but the end felt like a natural stopping point. The chapter also introduces (or at least mentions in passing) a few new characters. It hadn't been my intention to have any original characters in this fic, but they wanted to come and play, so I said, "Sure, why not?" The characters of Cassidy Dahl, Dr. Noah Dahl, and Dr. David Winchester are all mine, but if anyone would like to borrow them, feel free to ask.

_Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf_

_Chapter 4_

Dr. Noah Dahl had just finished signing handoff orders at the nurses' station, and was preparing to head home at the end of a very long day, when he caught a glimpse of something unexpected. _I have to be seeing things. There's not a snowball's chance in Hell that Stringfellow Hawke just walked in here of his own free will._

Turning to face the entrance fully, Noah realized why Hawke was there… and knew he'd have to run interference or be one resident down at the start of his next shift. _Damn it, David hasn't taken "Introduction to Stringfellow Hawke," yet. He doesn't know that trying to separate Cait from Hawke when she's injured is a Very Bad Idea._

The experienced eyes of the FIRM clinic's Chief of Staff did a quick inventory of Caitlin O'Shannessy, even as he hurried down the hall to play referee. It was easy enough to note the apparent dizziness, the pale complexion with a slight greenish tint implying nausea, and the rather large bruise over her cheek and temple. Though he wasn't yet close enough to tell, he would lay odds that there was also an uneven pupil response to visual stimuli. _Concussion, and not a nice one, but I'll still run the tests to confirm it… after I save my resident._

"David." Noah kept his voice just loud enough to make sure he was heard, but hopefully not loud enough to cause Cait any additional pain. "I'll see to Miss O'Shannessy. You have rounds coming up."

"But..."

"Go, David." Dr. Dahl's tone was not one to be argued with and he knew it. He hoped David had picked up on that by now as well. The younger man was a brilliant doctor, but definitely needed more familiarity with the concept of 'good bedside manner.' At the moment, Noah wasn't even certain that term was in the other doctor's vocabulary. Thankfully, he was able to take the hint, and walked away, unknowingly, but fortunately, removing himself from Hawke's line-of-sight. Noah hoped that he would _stay_ out of sight for a while, and that 'out of sight' would become 'out of mind' for Hawke... he wouldn't _count _on it, but he could hope.

Noah ushered both Cait and Hawke into an exam room, knowing it was futile – and likely not beneficial to his own health – to suggest that Hawke wait outside the room... besides, from what he was seeing, Cait didn't seem in any hurry to let go of the other pilot's hand. _Hmm, I wonder if someone finally got his head out of the sand where Cait's concerned._

He ran through the usual list of tests... not really to check for concussion in the first place, as that was rather obvious, but to check the _severity_ of said concussion, and verify that there was nothing more serious in the making. "How, I wonder," he said, as softly as he could while making sure that Cait could still hear him, "did you get out of here without anyone noticing this last night?"

Though he'd directed the question at Cait, it was Hawke who answered, and Noah was startled to see Cait relax when he spoke, almost as though _his_ voice hurt less than anyone else's. "She was too busy shoving all the doctors towards Dom and me to notice that she'd gotten knocked around, too. Said nothing hurt last night and she didn't notice anything until this morning. She's been seeing double ever since she woke up, more or less."

"So the adrenaline hadn't worn off, yet, and it just didn't occur to you to get checked out, as long as you were here anyway?" Noah felt a grin tugging at his mouth. Cait's response to this injury was actually fairly typical of several FIRM operatives he could name that never tended to notice a wound until someone pointed out they were bleeding. _I'll have to put a standing order in her chart to match Hawke's... and Michael's... and Marella's. Even if she appears to be without injury, if she's coming off of a mission and coming in here with a team-mate, she gets checked out before she leaves... whether she likes it or not._

"Yeah, pretty much," her soft voice answered, pain thickening her Texas drawl, and a blush creeping up her cheeks to combat the unnatural paleness that had been there before... and would probably stick around for a while, until she really started to heal.

_Ah-hah, so she realizes that she **should** have been checked, and honestly just forgot about it. Good... that means she won't fight the order quite as much as Hawke. Sometimes I feel like I should have a tranq gun handy when I'm dealing with him._

"Looks like a moderate concussion, and while I won't make you stay overnight, since you already made it through the first night after the injury without any major complications, I do want you to stay here for a few hours yet, just as a precaution. While you're here, we'll see what we can do so that when you head home, you're a little less green. How's that sound to you, Cait?"

"Absolutely wonderful, Doc. Thank you."

"This place is pretty quiet today. Get some rest. We'll be in periodically to check on you and I'll send a nurse in with something for the nausea. Since you're not staying overnight, we won't even make you change." And he certainly didn't miss the look of relief on Cait's face. _No one likes hospital gowns. _"You might be more comfortable without your shoes, though."

As he headed out the door, Noah turned back for another look, pausing when he saw Cait wince as she tried to lean over to untie her shoes. Hawke gently eased her back, and then took her shoes off himself, putting them by the bed, before covering her with a blanket and tenderly sweeping a lock of hair off her face. He kissed her gently and whispered something the doctor couldn't hear, before sitting in a chair at her bedside and taking hold of her hand.

_Hmm, looks like Hawke **did** get the hint. I wonder who won the pool?_ With a light chuckle, Noah turned again and continued out the door.

_Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf_

Michael and Dom had been sitting in the Waiting Room – patiently, more or less – for some time before spotting the physician they'd been told was in with Cait. Both men immediately stood and approached him, in hopes of hearing what, precisely, was going on.

"Dr. Dahl."

"Archangel," the other man said with a smile, green eyes twinkling at some joke he hadn't seen fit to share with them, yet. "I'm going to go with a hunch and presume you're here to check on the youngest of a certain slightly wayward flight crew?"

"You presume correctly."

"Enough with the pleasantries already," Dom broke in, impatient and visibly worried about his 'kids.' "How's Cait?"

"She'll be fine, Mr. Santini. She has a moderate concussion, and under normal circumstances, would be staying overnight. However, as she's already gotten through the first night with no problems, she should be fine for release in a few hours, so long as she has someone staying with her... which I don't think will be an issue. Aside from that, the only puzzle to solve is how to make sure my newest resident doesn't go into the room. He hasn't had the required class on the proper way to handle Hawke, yet, and I've already had to rescue him once. If he pushes any harder, Hawke might actually start to growl." Despite the evident amusement, the good doctor was also quite obviously tired, and didn't need to be rubbing at his eyes for Archangel to notice.

"Weren't you here last night, as well, Noah?"

"Indeed, I was, Michael, and should have been off-shift this morning. However, when I realized that young Dr. Winchester was about to make a serious – and possibly fatal – mistake by attempting to separate Hawke from an injured Cait, I thought it best to run interference. Speaking of the pair... who won the pool for when Hawke would get his head out of the sand? The kiss I saw when I left Miss O'Shannessy's room a few moments ago was not in the slightest bit platonic. Gentle, yes, but not the kiss of friends."

Michael laughed outright at the look of astonished joy on Dom's face, and tried to remember who had this day in the pool. "I'd have to check with Marella to be certain, Noah, but I think Cassidy has it."

"Wouldn't surprise me, Michael. Haven't you realized it yet? My wife knows everything."

TBC...


End file.
